


the fire you ignited (good, bad, and undecided)

by cosmicwritings



Series: tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, War AU, realisations of fuckin LOVE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9780344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicwritings/pseuds/cosmicwritings
Summary: @malfoygrangernet + february challenge + fave trope (battle couple)





	

**Author's Note:**

> my prompt for the february challenge for @malfoygrangernet on tumblr!!!! the prompt was fave trope so i chose battle couple kinda thing????? anyways i also made a graphic that you can check out on my blog @hannahabbott /tagged/dramione* that you should def check out and reblog maybe :-) title from ultraviolet by the stiff dylans because I Hate Myself

“On your left, Granger, on your fucking left!”

Her Leg-Locking Curse has barely left her lips before she’s whipping around to throw up a Protego!, breathing heavily as her heart catches up to her. A pink jet of light fizzles against it only half-a-second later, and she tries not to let herself think about how close that one was.

She’d recognise that voice anywhere, she thinks. Funny how things happen that way. A year ago, a few months ago, she’d gladly trade her arm to never hear that voice again, but circumstances change, and she doesn’t think the sound will ever truly leave her. A perfect metaphor of the man himself; he’s nowhere and everywhere to her, too much and not at all, stirring a source of fire in the pit of her stomach.

He couldn’t have been closer than on the other side of the room when his warning had been shouted, but he’s here now, solid and firm in the space shadowing her shoulder. A curse is thrown at the Death Eater who had aimed at her, which buys her enough time to stop for a moment and glance up at him. There’s no time for gratitude here, no time for a thank you or a I didn’t want to die without telling you everything, but he catches her gaze and it’s enough. It’s enough. 

How long had she felt like this, does she think? She’d always prided herself on being able to compartmentalise everything she had control of. But she’d never had a hold on her emotions, never been able to take her own feelings out of equations, and it sucked, sure, but it makes her human. 

And she looks up at him — the cut of his jaw, the purse of his mouth, the slightly-upward slope of his nose. The grey in his eyes, hard and focused and familiar. When had it become so familiar?

But this is a battlefield, and her lips are open to say something, which is absolutely stupid because — because he’s yanking her back all of a sudden, sharp grip on her arm that she doesn’t register as desperate or urgent or fucking downright scared until too late. The Avada sent their way soars right through her Shield spell, and she knows that it would’ve hit her stomach, had he not pulled them both away.

This is a fucking battlefield, so why is there something irrational in her brain that is telling her that she has to say it now, that she has to tell him that she could spend an eternity laughing at him over her morning tea once this war was over, or that she had slept an entire night without a single nightmare when he accidentally stayed in her bed all the way to morning yesterday, or that she went looking for her missing copy of Shakespeare sonnets last month and found it in his pillowcase with a bookmark placed carefully inside on her favourite page and felt something beautiful in her chest, right there and then. This is not the first time they have fought in the same mission, and yet, it has suddenly hit her that she could die any moment, or he could die any moment, and he deserves to know, he deserves to know that she does not view him as temporary, that she views him as as as —

She’s honestly not even surprised when she finds understanding in his eyes, like he knows, knows everything that’s running through her mind in that moment. So he smirks, a twist of his lips that she once thought cruel, but now thinks home.

“Team?” she coughs out, voice hoarse and hurting.

“Just outside this room. They want us to get out.” And then she remembers, he came through the goddamn door to come back into this room, containing only Death Eaters and the lone Order member that was her. Her.

She does not, cannot, let herself think about that right now, so she focuses on the Anti-Apparation spell set up around this fucking death trap of a room and says, “We’re going to have to fight our way out, aren’t we.” Not a question.

A glint of white teeth as he grins, razor-like and dangerous. “I’ll take defence.”

And despite it all, despite the situation, she rolls her eyes, muttering, “Lazy bugger,” before she’s flinging spells out again with rapid succession. The hooded cloaks begin dropping like flies, and, true to his word, he does not let a single spell fall through their defence as they cut through a path towards the exit. It clears her head a little bit; panicky on a field by herself is hard to work with, him as a solid presence with her is a completely different matter. These Death Eaters thinking they trapped her didn’t have a fucking chance.


End file.
